• 110: Masterpiece •
Carson
After Melody left that night, my mom knocked on my door, as I was getting ready for bed. I pulled on my pajama shirt and headed over to the door.
"Hey Mom," I said, pulling it wide open. "What's up?
"Hey Cars, can I come in and talk?" she asked.
"Yeah." I nodded, already knowing what she wanted to talk about. I sat down onto the edge of my bed as she came into my room and closed the door. My mom hovered at the door for a moment, a hint of nervousness on her face, before she came and sat down next to me.
"So, I've just been watching Melody for the past couple of days, and I just... I know something is wrong and I'm worried," she said. I nodded.
"You're right," I said. She blinked quickly in surprise, probably not expecting me to tell her anything. "Something happened at the party we went to. I didn't tell you initially because she wasn't ready to talk about it or report it." My mother's eyes widened on the word 'report'. "Do you remember Diesel?"
"The football player?" she asked. I nodded. "Yeah, I remember that meathead."
I chuckled slightly at that. We went to middle school together, and my mom always thought he wasn't a good kid.
"Yeah, well, said meathead got very drunk at the party. While Melody was cleaning her dress off in the bathroom – because Rose threw her drink on her and Emma had left to let me know she was there – he went in there and started –" there was a lump in my throat that wouldn't go away. "He started to... he – he kissed her and... she was trying to get away and – and – I... what if I couldn't get there in time Mom? What if he–"
"Hey, hey." She had tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "You did get there," she said, reaching up to my face and whipping my cheeks. I didn't realize I was crying. She pulled me into a hug, and it felt like she was pulling away some of the pain and anxiety of the last few days. Though I was keeping it together for Melody, I was beating myself up about not being there in the first place. "You did everything right, so you can't blame yourself anything that Diesel decided to do."
"Okay," I mumbled, not meeting her eyes. My mom grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at her.
"I mean it," she said. "Your hand; did you hit him hard?"
"Yeah," I said, sheepishly.
"Good!" I smirked at that and she smiled slightly before becoming serious once again. "How's Melody doing? I mean, I can see she's struggling, but–"
"Not well. But she won't talk to anyone; not her friends, not her teachers, not even me. And her family is no help at all. Her mom died, her dad is always working, and her stepmom and stepsister are–" I caught myself "–witches."
"She needs to talk to someone. Maybe a counsellor? She needs to deal with it now so she can move past it."
"I know, but I doubt she wants talk to a stranger...plus Alcott's guidance counsellors suck," I said, imagining what Melody's reaction would be if I'd even suggested something like that.
"Well, tell her she can talk to me. And she's always welcome here, day or night. And you can always talk to me too."
"Thanks Mom," I said, feeling a little lighter.
***
The next morning, I picked Melody up at the same time I normally would have for school. She came out of the house with a large black coat on. Under it, a black turtleneck, tucked into plaid chequered skirt she was wearing. She had black stockings on underneath and wore black combat boots. She had her hair down, but clipped the strands around her face back, which was my favourite, because it meant she couldn't hide her beautiful features from me.
She gave me a small smile as she entered the car; one that reached her green eyes but was quick enough that I'd have missed it if I blinked. She brought a small black backpack into the car with her and set it by her feet as she sat.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi," I replied, taking her all in. "You look beautiful." She wrinkled her nose in response and broke eye contact with me.
"Thanks. You look handsome," she said, motioning to my outfit and I. Dark jeans, a white t-shirt, and a dark green dress shirt, opened up.
"Thank you," I said, chuckling at her deflection. "Ready to go?"
"Yeah," she said. "Where are we going?"
"It's a surprise! But get comfy, it's a little bit of a drive."
***
It was more than a little bit of a drive, considering we drove all the way to Manhattan. I watched as Melody's face became coloured in confusion as the signs pointed us to the city, and the skyline came into view.
"Are we going to Manhattan?" Melody asked. I nodded with a smirk. "Why? What are we doing here?"
"You'll see," I said, laughing when she gave me a playful pout in response.
"I love Manhattan.... It's so dreamy," she said softly.
"It is," I agreed, feeling warm as I took in her smile.
As we drove for a bit longer, I glanced over at her occasionally, watching her smile get even wider and brighter as we got close enough to the MoMA that she could see it.
"Are we–" she started as got within full view of it. "Are we going to go in?"
"Of course!" I said. "I know how much you love art, so I figured you might like the MoMA..."
"Like? Try love," she grinned. It was infectious, and I found my lips pulling up into a grin as well. I hadn't seen her look this happy in so long and I was grateful I could do this for her.
***
When we walked into the museum, I watched as Melody's eyes lit up. She was still the same Melody, but somehow different. She was more in her element. As we walked past various artworks, she pointed to some in amazement, or telling me some background about them.
We stopped in front of a familiar looking painting, and her eyes widened with recognition before she stopped and smiled. As she explained that this painting filled with blues and yellows was called "Starry Night" by Vincent van Gogh. She told me how he was Ms. Foster's favourite artist, and about some of his story. And while I was paying attention to her as she spoke, I found myself trying to commit to memory the curve of the smile that she rarely wore. I loved the way her green eyes were dancing with amusement and the inspiration dancing on her face as she glanced between the painting and I.
As she turned back to the painting to stare at it longer, I snapped a picture of her on my phone. I could see half of her face and see some of the painting; an artsy and pretty picture sure, but one where she looked happy. Melody turned around quickly, her cheeks red.
"Did you just take a picture of me?" she asked. I gave her a sheepish grin. "Oh my gosh. I bet I look awful. Delete it!"
"You look beautiful. You're the masterpiece in this room full of art," I said. Her face turned a deep shade of pink. "And it's going to be my screen saver so... too late." She stuck her tongue out at me and linked her fingers between mine.
"You're lucky I love you," she said, and I chuckled.
And she was right. It was an honour to be loved by Melody Reese.
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Author's Note: hi friends! I hope you liked this chapter. Sorry it took a while, things have been super busy! Hopefully I'll have a new chapter in less time than it took to get this one up!
Also... Carson crying skskjdksdlfjslkjs
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Thank you all for reading, commenting and voting! You're amazing!
Melody's outfit:
This is 'Starry Night' incase any of you don't know what it looks like:
Vincent van Gogh is everything okay bye
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